Kurt, a Reflection
by HeartsHungBehind
Summary: A parody of Disney's Mulan. Odd chapters are Kurt, even chapters are Blaine. In an AU world where marriages are arranged and being gay gets you killed, Kurt has to fight for his country and his life while he hides his feelings for Captain Blaine. Little does he know that Blaine has a similar issue.
1. Meeting the Matchmaker

"Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!" I'm running frantically around the house, trying to find my left shoe. I'm already running late, and now I might miss my appointment at the salon to help for my meeting with the matchmaker. Great.

Sure, it's probably _really _conspicuous to go to a salon when you're trying to hide the fact that you're gay, but I honestly don't care. It's important to make a good impression, especially if this one meeting was going to determine whom I would be with for the rest of my life.

And there was that stupid shoe! The clunky hiking boot that Dad insists I wear to help hide my 'problem' was hidden under my bed the whole time. I distinctly remember slipping it under there in hopes of never seeing it again, now that I think about it.

Dad completely respects the fact that I'm gay, but in a world like this you would be killed for such a thing. It's better to just keep it to yourself, go with the flow of society. Go to school, get an education, get a good job, have a marriage arranged for you. Simple. Still, I wish that there were something I could do, some way to feel like myself for a change. Not this boy I'm forced to be, who wears ugly boots and like sports and doesn't know a thing about musicals.

Alright, shoes on, get your jacket and keys, get out of the house. I move faster than I even thought possible, practically throwing myself in the car and putting the keys in the ignition at the same time. My truck flies down the streets of Lima, until finally I reach Mercedes's salon. I climb out and immediately wince, seeing my friend's face through the large glass windows.

"Kurt Hummel, you are so lucky I like you."

I approach Mercedes slowly after noticing she has a rather large pair of scissors in her hand. "Why don't you just put those down, and we can get me ready?" She sighed and nodded, so I gave her my best attempt at a charming smile and sat in the swiveling chair beside the low sink. Mercedes grabbed all of my usual hair products, knowing just what I would need to look my best. I tried to keep quiet, I could tell she was pretty pissed at me.

_This is what you give me to work with?_  
><em>Well, baby, please don't fret<br>We're gonna fix this right up,  
>Without breaking a sweat<em>

Warm water hit my temples, and those talented hands started kneading shampoo into my chestnut hair. Mercedes is literally the only person in the world I trust with my hair, other than myself of course. It's really a shame she's already betrothed to someone; I'd marry her in a heartbeat if it meant I could live life with my best friend. Even if I wasn't attracted to anything she had to offer, physically that is.

_We'll have you  
>Washed and dried<br>Primped and polished til you glow with pride_  
><em>How else could you ever find a<em>_ bride?_  
><em>You'll bring honor to us all<em>

_Wait and see  
>When we're through<em>  
><em>Girls will surely want to be with you<em>  
><em>With good fortune and a great hairdo<em>  
><em>You'll bring honor to us all<em>

_A man can start his family_  
><em>Only in this one way<em>  
><em>By striking a good match<em>  
><em>And this could be the day<em>

I groan a little when Mercedes finishes. The relaxing part is over, and we've moved on to the primping stage. Whoever said that beauty is pain was clearly the smartest person in the world. My chair was pushed away from the sink, and now Mercedes and I are in front of one of the oversized mirrors. I feel the cool metal of scissors briefly touch the back of my neck as Mercedes goes to town on my hair.

_Find a girl with good taste_  
><em>Calm<em>  
><em>Obedient<em>  
><em>Who works with haste<em>  
><em>If you happen to<em>  
><em>Find one with grace<em>  
><em>You'll bring honor to us all<em>

_We all must do our best to_  
><em>Live the life that we receive<em>  
><em>Men work hard and must take care<em>  
><em>Of the families they conceive<em>

With one final sweeping motion, Mercedes finishes my hair. Flawless, as usual. I give her a big grin and she smiles back, pinching my cheek like I'm her little brother or something.

_When we're through you can't fail_  
><em>Girls will fall for your skin, soft and pale<em>  
><em>How could any woman say "No sale"<em>  
><em>You'll bring honor to us all<em>

"There! You're ready." She helps me up and gives me a hug, then shoos me out the door. "Go meet your mother!" Crap. That's right. Carole has a fascination with documenting these "special occasions," so I've got to meet up with her before I go see the matchmaker. I run out to my car for the second time today, driving like a maniac down to a nearby diner.

"Oh, Kurt! You'll do such a good job, I just know it," Carole says, pulling me in a tight hug.

I return it, but she doesn't realize that I hug her so tightly because I'm scared. Truly terrified. I'm about to march off to what could be my doom, and she didn't even let me finish my breakfast first! Well, at least now I can't throw up from being nervous, there's nothing in my body to purge except a couple servings of coffee. "Great. Thank you." I give my stepmother a halfhearted smile. "Can I get going now?"

"Not yet!" Her eyes pop open, suddenly frantic. "I have some things to give you, come out to my car." We head outside and she tells me to close my eyes. I sigh and do as I'm told, listening to her open the passenger's side door and shuffle around, looking for something. "Aha! Found it!" I open my eyes and she has a little gift bag for me. I smirk lovingly at her and open it up.

"I know how much you love pins, and I found this owl..." She attached the tiny pin to the collar of my shirt, a black button down that tucked into a nice pair of loose jeans. "They represent intelligence, you know. A very desirable male trait." It was adorable how much thought Carole put into this. She reaches into the bag again and pulls out a tiny can of hairspray. "And I bought you one of these, I know you like to fix your hair before going places."

"Thank you, Carole." I laugh as she smiles and playfully spritzes my bangs. "I really gotta go though..."

"I'm not done!" She puts the bag down in the car and turns back to me, putting a hand on each shoulder. I know what's coming now. I'm about to get the speech she had been planning for ages.

_Confidence is key, dear  
>You must proudly show it<em>

She reaches into her car one last time and pulls out a tiny cage. Something yellow hops around inside, and I immediately recognize it as Pavarotti, my pet songbird. I can't believe she brought him here, but who am I to complain? Pav always makes me feel better.

_Now add a warbler just for luck_  
><em>And even you can't blow it<em>

One last hug, and I'm off again. I've only been awake for a few hours, how in the world has this morning gone so slowly? Back in the car, ready (I guess) to go meet the matchmaker, I make a silent prayer. No, I don't believe in God. What God would make a world where being myself equals instant death? Still, praying couldn't hurt at a time like this.

_If you're there  
>Hear my plea<em>  
><em>Help me not to make a fool of me<em>  
><em>And to not uproot my fam'ly tree<em>  
><em>Keep my father standing tall<em>

Yes, never forget to pray for Dad. He's my world, and I'd be dead already if he weren't so understanding. After his heart attack, he needs my prayers anyway.

All too soon I'm there, standing outside the looming doors of Rachel Berry's office building with Pavarotti on my shoulder, chirping comfortingly in my ear. With a deep breath, I knock twice. The door opens slightly and a brown eye appears in the crack. "Kurt Hummel?"

"Yeah, that's me." The eye disappears and is replaced by an entire body, that of the matchmaker herself.

"Follow me," Rachel says. Back straight, eyes forward, I follow her into the darkness. This is really an amazing analogy to my future, isn't it? Being led through the unknown by some woman I don't even know if I'll like. I shake the thought from my mind and keep walking, making one last silent prayer. "Please bring honor to my family," I say under my breath. I'm ushered into a small, dimly lit room. Let my consultation with the matchmaker begin.

* * *

><p>"TIME'S UP!" Rachel calls, snatching my test paper away from me. I barely got through the math portion and my essay is probably shit, but at least it's over with now. "Hummel, you didn't-"<p>

"I know, I know, I didn't get through the whole thing." I hit my palm to my forehead in frustration. "You should really consider shortening that, you know." I hear Pavarotti chirp in agreement from the banister of the ceiling, but Rachel doesn't seem to take notice. She glares at me from over her clipboard.

"Taking out of turn?" She clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth and writes something down. I close my mouth and fight to keep it shut, before I yell at this little bitch who probably wouldn't be married if she wasn't the freakin' _matchmaker_. Rachel makes an upward motion with her hands, and I stand politely.

"I'll look at your intelligence score later. Now we look at appearance." It suddenly became very quiet, other than the small noises Berry made as she looked me over, and the scathing scratching of her pencil against her clipboard. She pokes and prods me like a piece of meat, until finally she makes one finally note and pushes me into my chair. Rachel sits across from me and taps her pencil against the clipboard. "I just have a few more questions. Do you have any special skills?"

I nod. "I'm pretty handy with mechanics. My father owns a tire shop. Oh, and I sing." I smile proudly. My voice is to die for, if I do say so myself.

"Oh, really?" Rachel smiles widely. "What are you?"

"Countertenor."

"Oh," she says, the smile leaving her face as fast as it came. "That's quite... feminine." I shrug and she gives me a strange look, but moves on to the next question. "Do you have any career plans?"

_Broadway_. "Ya know, just gonna take over the shop."

"I see. And what is it that you like to see in a woman?"

_Five o'clock shadow, a six-pack, nice teeth, male genitalia__. _"You know, I really want a girl with a good personality. Looks, they don't matter to me much."

"Hmm. I see. Not many guys who come through here say that." She glares at me and paces in a circle. "There's something different about you, and I just can't put my finger on it."

"Sorry, I don't know what you mean." I rise out of my chair. "Are we done here?"

"I suppose we are," she replies, and just as she stands I see something yellow fly past her.

"Shit! Pav don't!" I say, more to myself than to the bird. Rachel looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Are you talking to yourself?"

"What? No, don't be silly." I look past her head in search of Pavarotti, but it soon became clear that I was looking too far. Pav was _on top_ of her head. My body twitches and I immediately swat at the songbird, which Rachel was still oblivious of.

"What the hell?" She ducked out of the way, scaring Pavarotti into flying across the room. She gives me a look of complete distaste. "You idiot, what do you think you're doing?"

"Trust me, sweetie, if I wanted to hit you it would've happened." Her jaw drops, and I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. She points to the door, yelling profanities that are very unladylike. The door is thrown open, and I am thrown out. "Have fun with your match, Hummel." She spits my name with venom. "I've got _just_ the girl in mind for you." The door slams, leaving me alone on the street. I'm about to walk to my car, when I notice something is missing. _Crap. Pav._

I sneak back over to the door and open it quietly. Pav is sitting on the banister out in the hall, and I quickly whistle to get him back down. I hear a groan from the next room, and Rachel stalks out into the hall. "What do you _want_, Hummel?" She says, just as I grab Pavarotti and hide him behind my back.

Now, I'm pretty good at quick thinking, but the things I come up with aren't always the best ideas. When I flip her the bird (and not the one hidden behind my back), I think it's safe to say that was one of those bad, bad ideas. She's practically steaming from the ears as she grabs for something to throw at me, but I'm out of there too fast for her. I hear a heavy object hit the door, and I run before she has time to open it and try again.

The ride home was long, but not long enough. I don't want to tell anyone about what just happened. I look in the rearview mirror as I pull into our empty driveway, and I see the fear and confusion on my face. Why does this all need to happen to me? A single tear rolls down my cheek, the salt burning my dry skin. I laugh, because it wouldn't burn so much if Dad hadn't made me throw out my facial moisturizer. It sent the wrong message, I guess. But why does there have to be a message involved?

_Look at me_  
><em>I never asked for the perfect bride, and never did I offer<em>  
><em>To give away what I feel inside my heart<em>  
><em>Now I see I can never truly be myself<br>In this world, I have no part_

_Who is this boy I see_  
><em>Staring straight back at me?<em>  
><em>Why is my reflection someone I don't know<em>  
><em>Some how I can not hide<em>  
><em>Who I am, though I've tried<em>  
><em>When will my reflection show who I am inside<em>

I wipe away any tears and take a deep breath. My body rolls out of the car without my knowledge, and I walk the path to my house, closing the door behind me without a sound.


	2. Promotion

I lean back, examining the map with squinted eyes. "Here," I said finally, pointing to an area on the map. "This is where I think they'd be."

"Winnipeg? Blaine, that doesn't seem very likely," Wes says, eying the map.

David sighs and rolls up the map. "It doesn't matter anyway. It's not like General Anderson is going to start asking us our opinions on strategics anytime soon. Even if you are his son, Blaine."

I let out a huff. "I'm sure if I had a-"

"Wesley, David," comes General Anderson's intimidating voice. "Come with me. I need your opinion on something."

My friends stand with incredulous looks on their faces. They straighten their uniforms hurriedly. "Yes, sir. Coming, sir." They exit the tent with a small wave.

I flop back onto my cot. "Damn."

* * *

><p>"The new recruits," General Anderson tells me later that day, "will be coming in soon. And you'll be my second in command." The brisk pace we had been walking at was interrupted by my sudden halt.<p>

"Yes, sir." I stand still after saluting my father.

"Son?"

I look up at him and throw my arms around him. "Thanks, Dad."


	3. Training Hard

"So, how did your meeting with Rachel go?" Dad shoves a piece of steak in his mouth and watches me from across the table. "I hear that nice Brittany girl is going to see her next week. She's not the sharpest tack in the box, but I'm sure she'd be a nice fit with you."

"Oh, they would be cute!" Carole chimes in. "Or what about that Santana girl? She's very pretty."

I try and keep my dinner down when I hear their names mentioned together. It's obvious something is going on there, but I'll never know for sure. Wouldn't want to reveal them as a couple and get them killed. "Well you see, ummm..." I don't have to finish. There's a loud banging at the door, and Burt stands to answer it with a furrowed brow.

"Why do people always need to interrupt dinner? I swear I'll- Oh." A man in a government uniform is outside the door with a stony expression. He hands one of the large envelopes under his arm to Dad, and leaves without another word. My dad just stares down at it.

I get up and approach him cautiously while Carole eyes us from the dining room table. "Dad. What is it?" I try and pry the envelope away from him, but his grip on it only tightens.

"Government summons. I- I think it's something about the war." He turns his back to us and opens it slowly. With a shaky voice, he reads from the first paper he pulls out. "'One male from every household must arrive at the nearest army base to fulfill a government-required draft.'" Dad turns back to me and I can see tears in his eyes. "I'm going."

"What?" My voice starts out small until the magnitude of his words hits me. "WHAT? No, you can't go! You just had a heart attack, you need to stay here and take care of yourself! You're-"

"Kurt Hummel, do not call me old." He wipes at his eye and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Your life is more important than mine."

"I'll be fine!" I'm lying, of course. I'm absolutely terrified, but my dad would think he needs to join the army even more if I said that. I don't know how well I can fight him on this. "Carole, please!" I say, turning to face her. "Please convince him that he's better off staying here!"

Carole is sitting at the table, mouth open and silent tears streaming down her face. "I- I- Oh god. I can't see either of you go!" She drops her fork and runs off to her bedroom, and we can hear the sobs that hit her even through the door.

Dad turns to me, an urgent look on his face. "Kurt, I _forbid_ you to go. If I do it, they'll probably make me fix aircrafts or something instead of fighting. They're gonna put you right on the battlefield and if you don't die there-"

"What? What the hell do you think is gonna happen to me?" I glare at him through my hot tears.

"If they find out... what you are... they'll kill you anyway." He hangs his head, and I know what he's thinking.

"What, I can't act straight? I've fooled an entire town for years, you don't think I can control myself if I'm surrounded by men all day?"

"Keep your voice down!" he whispers back angrily. "Carole doesn't need to know, you know how worried she would be if she found out."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, and you know how worried she'll be if her husband goes off to war."

Burt shakes his head. "I'm going, and you're staying her. I'll make due, and you'll _live your life_. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

He walks away, probably to go comfort Carole, and the discussion is over. At least, it is on his end. I refuse to let him go. Besides, I'll never get to live the life I want anyway.

* * *

><p>A mist seems to cover the Hummel residence, stemming from a small gazebo in the yard. A spirit rises from the fog. Her icy stare is trained on a statue in the corner, which she approaches in a gliding motion.<p>

"Puckerman," she says, starting quietly. "Noah. NOAH!" She slaps the figurine and lets it clatter to the floor, where it slowly morphs into a young man. "Puckerman, I understand that you are uninterested in anything that does not involve felonies or impregnating something, but now would be a good time to pay attention."

Puck shakes his head, trying to wake up from his long slumber. "What do you need, Ms. Sylvester?"

"Wake everyone up. Porcelain needs our help." Puck nods and grabs his drum, slamming on it as loud as possible. More spirits rise from the floorboards and flood from the walls, groaning about their aching joints. They assemble themselves around Sue, knowing exactly what to do.

"Alright, here's the deal. Porcelain's run off and joined the army. We all know that he is a fairy, correct?" Everyone nods, though some make faces at the thought. "Good. So who do we send to protect the kid?"

"We need someone smart," says Beiste. "Someone who can convince him to come back."

"No one wants to hear from you," Sue says, rolling her eyes.

Shannon opens her mouth to argue, but Lauren has already cut in. "We need to send the toughest person. Teach the scrawny kid to fight."

"No! Kurt's a love, not a fighter." Tina looks around with a frightened expression. "We need to send someone to comfort him." Everyone began murmuring their ideas, but Sue interrupts them all.

"We need to send our secret weapon." Everyone gasped.

"The- The Stone Dragon?" Mike asks, shaking with fear.

"Yes. The Stone Dragon. PUCKERMAN!"

Puck jumps awake. "Puckasaurus reporting for duty!" He shouts, stumbling on his tired legs.

"Go get the Stone Dragon. Tell him he must go and bring Kurt home."

Pucks eyes grow wide at the thought of confronting the Stone Dragon, but he nods and leaves the temple. "Wakey wakey!" Puck bangs at his drum, but nothing happens. "Come on you stupid thing."

The statue in the garden just sat their, unmoving despite Puck's calls. He huffs and gives the statue a swift kick.

All he hears is a crack.

"Oh, shit."

"Stone Dragon?" Sue calls out the window in search of the guardian. "Oh, good, you're awake."

"Yep, that's me, the great Stone Dragon!" Puck lifts up the damaged head of the statue and waves it in front of his face. "Time to go fetch Kurt, I'll be back later! Peace out!" He waits for Sue and the others to turn away before dropping the head and running. This is all his fault! It's worse than that time he led Uncle Andy to... you know, he didn't really wanna think about that.

The only way to avoid being KILLED by Sue is to bring Kurt back as a hero and – Oh. There's an idea. A tingle starts at the base of Puck's spine, radiating through his whole body until he turns into a little dragon. He takes a deep breath and scurries after the missing Hummel.

* * *

><p>I stop to grab a drink and let my horse, Quinn, rest. We've still got a while to go before we find the army base, and these instructions are really vague. If only they would let us bring our cars! My GPS could've tracked down the army base in minutes, but they'd rather we bring other means of transportation that could be useful in war.<p>

I'm whipping my gun around in circles, making sure to leave the safety on so I don't shoot myself in the foot or something. A loud noise causes me to jump and lose it.

"Who's there?" I ask timidly.

"It is I, your guardian!" The shadow of a beast hits the trees around me, and I cringe back in fear. "I'm here to guide you, and make you a war hero! I'll train you, and help keep your secret. As you know, if the army finds out you're gay, the punishment is DEATH!"

"Who are you?" I ask. This is all very hard to believe.

"I am the powerful, the wise, and the pleasurable dragon, PUCK!" A tiny lizard steps forward. Its red scales gleam in the sunlight, and it has a a dark stripe going from its head to its tail.

"A lizard? A lizard is gonna help me?" The tiny creature lets out a puff of smoke and glares at me.

"What were you expecting?"

"Not much, to be honest."

"Never heard that one before," he says with a wink. "I guess you got more than you bargained for. This is merely my... travel size." The self-proclaimed dragon began to quiver, and he became a boy right before my eyes. His red scales turned to smooth tan skin, and the stripe became a mohawk. He extended a strong hand. "Noah Puckerman. Call me anything other than Puck and I'll light your hair on fire. It won't be hard, with all that hair spray."

I'm reluctant to shake his hand, but I take it in mine anyway. I can tell Quinn doesn't like him. She lets out an angry whiny and backs away slowly.

"Tell your stupid cow to shut up, I promise not to make her into a hamburger or something."

I glare at him. "Quinn is a horse, thank you. She happens to be a great judge of character."

"Yeah, whatever." He starts walking away from me, towards the direction I assumed the camp was in. "Oh, and I brought you something." He whistles, and a tiny yellow bird flutters to my shoulder.

"Pavarotti!" My bird tweets a greeting to me, making me smile widely.

"Yeah, he wanted to tag along for the ride, I guess." Puck smirks at me as I hum a tune to my songbird, who sings it back to me. "Come on, let's go find that camp." He morphs back into a tiny dragon again and runs off into the forest. I jump on Quinn's back and go after him.

* * *

><p>"Alright, this is it! Time to show them your manly walk. Shoulders back. Chest high. Feet apart. Head up. And... strut!" Puck pushes at the back of my knee, forcing me to awkwardly walk forward. I can tell people are staring, but I stare right back. Oh my gosh, did that guy seriously just pick his nose and EAT IT?<p>

"This place is disgusting, Puck. Men actually act like this?" I have to clench my jaw to keep myself from gagging.

"Only the best ones! Now come on, Lance Bass. Go act tough."

I walk past a group of boys hitting one another. "Punch one of them, that's how real men say hello." I doubt Puck is right, but I punch one of them in the back (really I punched him because his haircut is a mess, but I'm not going to tell that to Puck).

The boy turns around, his blond hair sweeping over a pair of angry blue eyes. His friends, a lanky guy with glasses and a giant with a cute face, look at me with confusion. "What was that for?"

"I, uh... Sorry. Didn't mean to bump into you." I back away slowly, hoping I haven't caused a scene.

"Yeah, right. Girly prick," he mutters under his breath.

"WHO YOU CALLIN A GIRLY PRICK, TROUTY MOUTH?" Puck shakes his fist at the boy, who grabs me by the back of the shirt. I'm dragged back to their little huddle, where the blond stares at me with a malicious look in his eyes. He throws a punch, but I duck and he hits the nerdy guy in the nose.

"Sam, you idiot!" The boy lunges at him, and I get out of the way just in time. I start running, but they notice my absence almost immediately. It's my first day here, and I'm already being chased. Great, high school all over again. I duck and roll into a tent, and the boys crash into the large group of men in front of them. An uproar begins, and soon no one knows who they're fighting. They just wanna fight.

A short young man steps out of a nearby tent, and I can just see him out of the corner of my eye. His face is twisted in anger. "What's going on here?" He shouts in a surprisingly loud voice.

Everyone steps back in fear. That guy Sam points at me. "He started it."

The short man glares at me. He actually seems kinda young, maybe even a year younger than me. He grabs me under the shoulders and pulls me off the ground, even though I can't remember falling. "What's you name?"

"I- uh-" I sputter. Wow. He's... wow. The shorter boy has a strong chin and curly black hair. His brown eyes are drilling into me, but I can't help but notice the smile wrinkles at the corners of those chocolate orbs.

"Hello? What. Is. Your. Name."

"Oh, I'm uh.. Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

"Smooth. Real smooth," Puck whispers in my ear. I reach behind my back where he is hiding. I pretend to scratch an itch, but really I'm flicking him in the head.

"Right. Anyway," he says, letting go of me. "I'm Captain Blaine Anderson, I will be leading this... well, I use the term 'army' loosely. Be sure that everyone here will be punished for this outburst. But not now. Fall in and follow me."

The men around me fall into a poorly formed line, and we march after Blaine and one of his advisers. We're led to an open field where we stop in a line up.

"You will assemble quickly and silently every morning and await further instructions. Otherwise you will answer to me," Blaine calls out loudly, making sure everyone can hear.

"Oh, we've got such a tough hobbit for a commander," Sam snickers.

Blaine smirks at Sam, then pulls an arrow from the quiver his adviser holds. "Thank you for volunteering." He pulls the arrow back against his bow and shoots, letting the arrow fly up to the top of a wooden pole nearby. "How about you go get that for me, huh?"

We all laugh as Sam grumbles and moves towards the pole, but not before being called back by Blaine. "Don't forget this," he says, pulling out two heavy metals. "This represents discipline," Blaine says, tying it around Sam's wrist. "And this one is strength." The two metals weigh Sam down, but he makes a start towards the pole anyway.

THUMP. Sam hits the ground. He tries again, but with no luck. We all try, and my ass is killing me from the fall. Why is it that I'm already sore, but we have to keep going anyway?

Blaine throws us each a gun with a long barrel, then takes his shirt off and tosses it off to the side. Holy crap, why? Why did he have to do that? I close my mouth to keep from drooling as he starts twirling the gun, then plants it against the ground. I swing mine to try and do the same, but only succeed in hitting that guy with the glasses, Artie, in the head.

_Let's get down to business  
>So pick up your guns<br>Did they send me daughters  
>When I asked for sons?<br>You're the saddest bunch  
>I ever met<br>But you can bet  
>Before we're through<br>Mister, I'll make a man  
>out of you<em>

Arrows fly past me as Blaine shoots each target. I can get my arrow to fly straight.

_Tranquil as a forest  
>But a fire within<br>Once you find your center  
>you are sure to win<br>You're a spineless, pale  
>pathetic lot<br>And you haven't got a clue  
>Somehow I'll make a man<br>out of you_

Why is this even a training activity? The other men pelt me with rocks, but I can barely fend them off with the thin stick I'm given. Now we're running from flaming arrows. Next we're balancing over a running river. Then I'm getting tossed around by Blaine himself! The only thing I can think through it all is Hey, at least my dad doesn't have to do all this.

_You must be swift as  
>the coursing river<br>With all the force  
>of a great typhoon<br>With all the strength  
>of a raging fire<br>Mysterious as the  
>dark side of the moon<em>

Everyone is ahead of me. It seems like they have been for days now. I can feel Blaine's eyes on me as I fall behind.

_Time is racing toward us  
><em>_till we must collide  
>Heed my every order<br>and you might survive  
>You're unsuited for<br>the rage of war  
>So pack up, go home<br>you're through  
>How could I make a man<br>out of you?_

He leaves me in the dark, leaves me to hate myself. There's only one way to become one of them. I need to get that arrow.


	4. Orders

I wake up early. It's been a long time since the sun rose and I haven't. The trumpet sounds to wake the rest of the camp. I rub my eyes slightly as I exit my tent, trying to come up with a way to motivate that Hummel kid.

Which is about when my mouth drops.

That Hummel kid, the one who has been fairly useless so far, is sitting atop the wooden pole at the center of camp, twirling my arrow lazily between his fingers with the weights hanging from a nail near the top of the pole. He did it. No one was supposed to be able to get that arrow. It was a metaphor at best.

I order him down from the pole, giving him a rough pat on the back before I yell at the rest of the camp for loitering.

I'm impressed, but he's not getting off that easy.

"_You're in charge, Blaine," General Anderson says. "I'm headed up to Winnipeg and someone needs to whip these boys into shape when they arrive."_

_I spluttered. I had only recently been promoted and training the new recruits was quite the task to undertake. "Yes, sir," I say anyway._

"We have orders for Winnipeg," Wes says. He, David, and I watch as the men rush towards the creek, excited to swim for some unfathomable reason.

I snatch the paper from Wes's hands and sure enough it bears my father's signature. "Do you think we're ready for this?"

Wes nods and David looks contemplative. "The orders aren't for a week or so. We need to train a little more, but we'll be ready."

"Even the Hummel kid?" I say, watching him come back from the creek wrapped in a towel.

Wes snorts. "He'll be fine. We'll just have to keep him out of trouble."

"That's what I'm afraid of."


	5. Marching Forward

"Kurt, don't be a priss. Just wash up with the other guys!"

I glare at Puck and keep walking towards the nearby lake, clutching my soap and towel tighter to my body. "Do you know how weird it is to wash myself with other people around? I refuse to do it, it's disgusting."

Puck raises his eyebrow and exchanges a look with Pavarotti, who chirped absentmindedly on his shoulder. "Or maybe you just don't wanna be tempted by hundreds of naked men surrounding you." It's a flat-out statement, not a question. I refuse to dignify it with a response, choosing instead to walk faster and avoid his gaze. Puck sighs and sits on a rock by the water. "I'll just keep watch then."

"Yeah, you do that," I mutter before stripping down and jumping into the frigid lake. I swim around for a few minutes to adjust, but the water still has an icy grip on my chest by the time I'm ready to scrub the dirt off myself. I could seriously use a hot shower right now, steam rising around me as the liquid heat drips from the shower and- No. Don't go there, Kurt. You'll only make the water feel colder. I sigh and swim around some more, pretending that Dad has just installed a giant pool in our backyard and I can wash up and go home any minute. It's a comforting thought, I suppose. I dip my hair underwater and give it a good scrubbing. I'm just about to get to work on everything else when I hear footsteps in the distance.

"Puck, what's going on?" I dip lower in the water and glance around, but Puck is out of sight. I see a tiny red figure zoom past, followed by a streak of yellow shooting into a nearby tree, and I know Puck has transformed to go hide somewhere. But what is he-

"Oh god."

Three other boys come racing towards me. Sam is in the lead, followed closely by Artie and Finn. They all dive in the water, and I try my best to sneak away as they're submerged under the ripples. This could get very awkward very fast.

"Hey! Kurt!" Artie is the first to spot me, though I have no idea how he does it without his glasses on. "Where ya goin'?"

"Oh, you know," I say, waving my hands. "I'm all cleaned up, so I'm just gonna head back to camp."

"Oh, don't be silly!" He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me back into the deeper water, and Finn comes around from the other side to greet me. "I know we were jerks to you earlier, but that doesn't mean we can't still be friends." He reaches his hand out to shake mine, but the gesture is interrupted by Sam's calling out to us from overhead.

"Guys, watch this!" I look up and _ohmygod_. Sam is just standing there, stark-naked. I can help but admire that fact that he actually has a really, _really _nice body, but it's nothing compared to how handsome Captain Blaine is, and- _c__rap._

I'm so lucky that Artie can barely see anything, and Finn is too distracted by Sam's diving to notice my problem. I start to swim away, but Sam chooses that exact moment to resurface and see my escape. "Kurt, where are you going? Did you see that?"

"Yeah, buddy, what're- OW!" Artie stops mid-sentence and yelps, practically launching out of the lake. I see another flash of red under the moonlit water, and I know Puck has come to my rescue. "SNAKE! THERE'S A SNAKE!" All of the boys jump back and cower on a rock, giving me the perfect opportunity to escape. I whistle for Quinn and she trots over with Pav and my towel on her back, and I wrap the cloth around myself as fast as possible so no one notices what's going on downstairs.

"I bit that guy in the ass for you," Puck said, scrambling up behind me and spitting in the grass. "You. Owe. Me."

"Hey, it's not my fault!" I reply, wrapping the towel around my waist. "Besides, that was just as horrific for me. I'm not mentally prepared to see another naked man at the moment."

Puck snickers. "You better shut your eyes then."

I open my mouth to ask what he means, but all that comes out is a feeble squeak as at least fifty men run past me. Would it kill them to put some pants on? I shake the thought from my head and keep walking, but I pause as I hear a muffled conversation from David's tent.

"Do you think we're ready for this?" Blaine asks his right-hand men.

"The orders aren't for a week or so," I hear Wes reply. "We need to train a little more, but we'll be ready."

"Even the Hummel kid?" I gasp but keep walking, my three companions close behind. I can feel his eyes at my back as I quicken my pace.

Wes lets out a loud snort. "He'll be fine. We'll just have to keep him out of trouble."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

I let out a dry laugh. That's what I'm afraid of too.

* * *

><p>I walk next to Quinn and the cart she is made to pull as we walk north. The drum beats in time, like it has done for days, and we are expected to keep up with its never-ending thumping. Though I think the big guy with the drum is getting tired of tapping out those beats, because it feels like we've been walking slower lately. Or maybe my legs are just giving out... Both scenarios are equally likely. Pav whistles and someone picks up the tune, apparently still energized enough to find extra air for whistling. Soon everyone has joined, and we all sing to the beating of the drum.<p>

_For a long time we've been  
>marching off to battle<em>

Sam shrugs, chiming in with everyone else.

_In our thundering herd  
>We feel a lot like cattle<em>

_Like the pounding beat  
>Our aching feet aren't<br>easy to ignore_

Artie rolls his eyes from behind me. "Hey!" Everyone looks over at him, waiting to hear if he has anything good to say. "Think of instead a girl worth fighting for!"

"Huh?" I look at him in confusion, and he leaves the line of men to stand beside me and throw an arm over my shoulder.

"That's what I said. A girl worth fighting for!" He breaks out into his own song, dancing around us with his arms wrapped around an invisible beauty.

_I want her hair gold like the  
>sand with eyes<br>blue as the sea_

Sam runs up behind Artie and dances along, looking wistfully off in the distance.

_My girl will marvel at  
><em>_my abs, ask  
>"How charming can he be?"<em>

Sam does a corny impression that I can't quite hear, but it's obvious from Artie's expression that it wasn't all that funny. He sighs and looks off into the distance, as if the girl of his dreams is waiting in the wings to laugh the next time he quotes a movie. Finn joins them, leaning forward from him enormous height to sing with them.

_I couldn't care less what she'll  
>wear or what she acts like<br>It all depends on what  
>she sings like<em>

He belts out a string of notes and everyone smiles at Finn's talent. It's clear he was made for duets. Suddenly they were surrounding me, though, asking rapid-fire questions I would never be able to answer.

_Bet the local girls thought  
>you were quite the charmer<em>

_And I'll bet the ladies love  
>a man in armor<em>

_You can guess what we  
>have missed the most<br>Since we went off to war!_

"What do we want?" Artie shouts about the roaring crowd.

"A girl worth fighting for!"

_My girl will think I have no faults_

_That I'm a major find_

They turn to me now. What am I supposed to say?

_How 'bout a girl who's got some strength?  
>In body and in mind?<em>

The others look around at one another and burst into laughter. "Nah!" None of them can fathom a woman who isn't submissive or weak, but I have no interest in befriending women like that. Besides, I was describing my perfect man. Captain Blaine turns around and shoots me a smile. I blush and return it, but quickly turn back to Artie.

_My manly ways and turn of  
>phrase are sure to thrill her!<em>

Sam chuckles. "He thinks he's such a lady killer," he whispers in my ear.

_But when we come home  
>in victory they'll line up<br>at the door!_

_Wish that I had  
>A girl worth fighting-<em>

"Oh my god."


	6. Destruction

Everything is red as blood, black as night. The houses of this small town in Minnesota are pure ash. Even the sky looks as if it has been lit on fire. My troops march forward in silence as we go to inspect the damage, and every once in a while I can hear a gasp or sharp cough ring out through the emptiness. "Search for survivors," I tell them, just so I can escape from the noise of their breathing, their footsteps, anything that could stop me from thinking clearly.

I get off my horse and give him a pat on the neck before walking forward. I spot Kurt clutching something to his chest, and when he turns see that it's a small porcelain doll, its pale skin covered in soot and its dress charred. Somehow, Kurt is still able to speak. I see him gulp as he trudges up to me. "Captain?" I can't look at him, I know the sadness in his face will make me break down. "Why are we even fighting?" He runs his white skin across the doll's cheek, and soon his thumb is as dark as the little toy. I imagine Kurt like that, his soft skin that glows like moonlight smothered by black ash, and it takes everything I have just to open my mouth and respond.

"Territorial battle. It's been going on for ages, people have died before and they'll die again. This is nothing new." I sneak a glance at Kurt's face and I can tell that this is _all_ new for him. He's so innocent, so pure. I just want to hold him, to hide him somewhere to keep him safe, but I know that isn't possible. "The U.S. will get this all under control again soon. That's what my dad is probably out doing now, he saw this and he's going to find the troops that did it. We'll be able to go home."

"Yeah, but what about the people who won't get to go home?"

I don't think I can answer that, but it turns out I don't have to. Wes calls my name with urgency, and I run to him. "What's wrong?"

"Captain! Captain, I- Blaine, just look." He points off into the distance, where more smoke is rising. "There's an army base over there," he mumbles. A tall guy walks up to me and hands me a badge, something he must've pulled from the base's wreckage. He says something I don't hear, because I'm too distracted by the name on the badge. _Anderson_.

Kurt is standing behind me. He sees it too, and lets out a quivering breath. "Oh, Blaine." He drops all formality and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry." I hug him back because it's the only thing I can think to do. My eyes burn, but it's probably just from the smoke. It's sweat, not tears, that drip across my cheekbones and onto Kurt's shoulder. Maybe when I find that place to hide him, I can stay there and hide too. I wanna be someone who gets to go home.

My dad won't be.

"Why are we turning back?" Artie asks as everyone repacks their supplies and adds anything useful they found in the wreckage.

"Blaine was right all along, those other troops were coming from Winnipeg." David throws his saddlebag over his horse and mounts it, trotting up next to me. "If they came through here to destroy this place, you can bet they've already started moving onward."

"Where do you think they're going?" Kurt asks, looking right at me.

I sigh, wishing it weren't true. "They've gotten cocky, I'm guessing they've already moved on to the capitol."

"What?" Kurt's jaw drops. "That's insane, they won't make it that far."

"Kurt, they've already crossed our borders and destroyed an entire town, it's pretty obvious they're a powerful army. Canada is huge, think of how many troops they've accumulated. There's strength in numbers."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Why are we standing here talking? We need to cut them off!" The other men yell in agreement, and I raise my hands to silence them.

"Fall in, we're leaving now." The men line up, and I throw an extra glance in Kurt's direction. His face is twisted with worry.

We go southeastward now, trying to reach Washington D.C. as soon as possible. In an hour or two we reach a mountain pass. The men are all lined up, marching in pairs with Kurt and his horse in the back with the supplies. I tell everyone to be as silent as possible; the echoing off the mountain walls could give away our position.

We keep walking, but suddenly there is a strange chirping. I look around, but there are barely any trees in sight. I peek over my shoulder. Where's the cart? Better yet, where's Kurt?

There's a bang.

Everyone wheels around at the sound of gunfire. There is an uproar of confusion, and someone shouts that we need to grab guns. But all of the guns are in the cart...

"Hello there, Blaine." I jump, making my horse whiny in annoyance. I turn around and see a thick-set man with a cocky grin on his face. Well, I would be cocky too if I had _that_ many troops backing me up. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is General Dave Karofsky, and these are the troops that are going to kill you."

My jaw drops. "H- How did you find us?" I stammer.

Karofsky snickers. "_A little birdie _told me where you'd be."

Shit. Now I remember, Kurt had a bird with him that he would always sing to at the army base. The two would harmonize as the canary would whistle and Kurt's warm voice would fill the air. I can't think about that now though. "Where is he?"

"Oh, the scrawny kid? He ah... had an accident with one of your guns. We figured it would be better to just leave him there." I turn to send someone after Kurt, but Karofsky grabs me. "Oh no you don't. It's no use, the same will happen to everyone else here. I wiped out your father, now it's your turn." Hot anger bubbles up inside me, but I try my best not to strangle the man on the spot. "You're weaponless. Surrender now and we can make this much less painful. This will be Canadian soil soon enough. Until then, at least you'll be dying on your own front."

I open my mouth to say we would never surrender, that my troops would never give up to the likes of him, but I'm distracted by a loud popping in the distance. Then a flame, high above, that strikes the bedrock just behind Karofsky's troops.

I feel the shaking before I see it happening. The rocks tumble, the snow on them billowing in a cloud of glittering dust too pretty to come before the wreckage the rocks were about to bring. The face of the mountain falls right above the other men, and with screams of terror they're enveloped in snow and body-crushing boulders. The dust settles, and they're just... gone.

My jaw goes slack and I look every which way, trying to make sure there's no one left. As soon as I'm satisfied, I remember what Karofsky had said to me.

"Kurt!" I jump off my horse and run as fast as possible, hoping I can make it in time. My troops clear a path for me and watch with sad eyes as I hold Kurt's head. "Kurt, Kurt..."

"Do you think I'll ever go home?" he croaks out. I notice the heavy weapon lying next to him, then I notice the pool of blood at his side.

"Oh my- I- Yeah, Kurt, of course you'll go home," I say, feeling hot tears well up.

Kurt gives me a dreamy smile. "Oh, good." He closes his eyes and his breathing slows, but I can still feel a faint heartbeat.

"No, no! Kurt!" His eyelashes make a feeble attempt to flutter open, but fail in their efforts. "Somebody help!"

* * *

><p>"He's been out cold for two weeks now," I say to Wes impatiently. He and David have been stopping me from seeing the boy for too long. We had been keeping Kurt in a medical tent, moving him around with us and our one troop medic. "Just let me in there to talk to him."<p>

"Blaine, it's no use. Kurt's gonna be fine, you can talk to him in a week or so."

"But-"

"But nothing," David adds. "We know you wanna thank him for saving us, but he's on a lot of medication right now. He probably won't understand a thing you say."

I sigh. It's not just that I want to thank Kurt, but I don't say that aloud. I've been seeing his face for so long now, it's been torture to go even two weeks without watching his face light up with a grin. "I don't care if he doesn't understand," I say. "I just want to see him."

"What's your attachment to this kid, Blaine?" Wes is giving me a strange look. I just shake my head and push past him. There's Kurt, sleeping like an angel on a soft blanket. Dr. Schuester is hovering over him, checking his bandages.

"Will?" I tap the man tentatively on the shoulder. "Could you give me a minute with him?"

The man scratches his curly hair and gives me a confused look. "Alright, I suppose, Captain. Just don't let him overexert himself." He leaves, and for once I am alone with Kurt.

I've always thought that maybe, just maybe, these feelings would go away. I know I'm not attracted to woman, it's part of the reason I followed in my father's footsteps and joined the army. The longer I'm away, the longer I can go without being given a wife by the local matchmaker. It helps that I had never really had strong feelings for another man. Yes, there's always been attraction... But I've never felt anything like this before. It's why I made Schuester leave, and why I have to stay quiet. I stroke Kurt's cheek and watch him breath, the slow and steady rhythm calming me. This boy, a boy of absolute beauty, is destroying the walls I have been building for so long. I'm so lost in thought that I barely notice Kurt's eyes peeling open.

"Blaine?" His hand reaches up to meet mine.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What're you doing here?" His fingers tickle my hand as they brush past.

"I- I uh-"

Kurt giggles, and I can tell what the others meant when they said the drugs would make him act strangely. "You're adorable when you stutter." He reaches up to touch my cheek, and I can feel my cheeks heat up under his touch.

"You're just adorable in general," I reply. Now we're both giggling, Kurt's happy laughter mixing with my cautious chuckles. I want to lean down and kiss him, and I wish that I could. Even if he was gay (which I can't just assume of someone), I would be shot dead if I let so much as the thought slip from my head.

Despite my worries, Kurt is as giddy as ever. "Oh, Blaine," he says with a slur. "I love you so much."

My eyes grow wide. "Wh- what?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I. Love. You." He says it very slowly, as if he's talking to a two year old. Then, without warning, Kurt sits up as far as he can without hurting himself and plants a kiss on my cheek.


	7. Getting Caught

I pull my lips off Blaine's scruffy cheek, smiling to myself. I should take in the fact that his eyes are wide and his breathing is staggered, but I don't. I just smile and plant a quick peck on his confused lips.

"What the hell?" Blaine's head snaps back as mine hits my pillow. Someone is standing in the doorway. What're they here for? I'm hopped up on enough drugs to knock out an elephant, and Blaine is here to protect me. We don't need anyone else. Especially not Artie, who stands gaping in the middle of the cloth doorway of my tent. I usually enjoy his random visits, where he comes and reassures me that everything is okay before I fall asleep again, but now isn't a good time. Blaine raises his hand to halt Artie, but the bespectacled boy runs off. Blaine turns back to me and curses under his breath, looking upset.

"What's wrong?" I ask him. I put a hand to his cheek and he covers it with his own trembling one. He smiles at me, but there's a sadness behind it that I don't understand right now.

"Nothing is wrong. Go back to sleep and I'll take care of it." I try to protest, but he hushes me and tells me to close my eyes. "I'll come back to you and explain everything later, you just wouldn't understand right now." With that he runs off, leaving me to fall back asleep. I don't, though. I can hear mumbling outside my tent, gruff and angry and slowly getting louder.

"He didn't mean it, he's just confused!" Blaine yells at Wes. Artie must've said something to him and David. "He was dreaming and thought I was the girl he likes back home, apparently she has curly black hair like mine."

"Why are you lying for him, Blaine?" Wes is probably shaking his head as he speaks. "Hummel doesn't mean a thing to you, plus he practically raped your lips! You're just going to let it go?"

Blaine laughs harshly. "I'm sorry I don't see everything in black and white like you do, Wes. I'm sorry I can look past a few things and forgive simple mistakes, especially when they're done by someone who isn't in their right mind." I hear stomping, and I guess that Blaine has left. But he said he would come back, he said we would talk. I fall asleep, waiting patiently for that moment to come.


	8. Evidence

I left Kurt alone for a few days. We're still moving forward, towards the capitol, but now we're moving with the news that Karofsky's troops have been destroyed. I didn't try speaking to Kurt because I don't want to seem suspicious. They caught us kissing, it will only seem like I enjoyed it if I try and go see him. Plus, those drugs will be out of his system soon enough. I want him to be alert when we speak to one another.

"Captain?" David approaches me cautiously. "We'll reach the capitol by sundown tomorrow." I nod and he leaves without another word. I sigh. Word of what happened has spread across the troops; the only reason I'm not a social pariah is because I'm their leader. If we'll be to Washington D.C. that soon, I need to talk to Kurt. _Today_. I can't leave him hurt and confused for any longer. I sneak out of my tent and into his, which is thankfully unoccupied.

"Kurt?" I lean over his bed and give him a small shake. Kurt groans and rolls over to look at me with sleepy eyes. "Blaine?" he says, a little too loudly.

"Shhh... We need to stay quiet, okay?" Kurt nods in understanding, and I take this as my cue to continue. "Do you remember what happened between us?"

Kurt is confused at first, but a look of dawning soon spreads across his face. "Oh, no. No no no!" He sits up quickly, somehow ignoring the pain he probably still has in his side. Tears are filling his eyes as he frantically whispers, "I thought that was a dream! Oh, god no! I'm so sorry Blaine please don't tell anyone, please! They'll kill me, they'll kill me, you can't just let them-" I lean in and kiss his cheek, innocent and slow like he did to me earlier in the week. He's staring at me, his big blue eyes brimming with tears that fall in salty clusters. "You... you too?" I nod, and Kurt lets out a choked sigh of relief. "So...?"

"I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. I didn't want anyone to notice, and I wanted you to understand what was going on before we spoke."

"I get it, it's okay." Kurt wears a happy smile now. "It's more than okay."

"You said you loved me. Is that true?"

Kurt sniffles. "I think it might be," he whispers.

"Good, because I can't take my eyes off you." Kurt laughs, then I laugh too. Now we're laughing together, and it soon turns into a kiss, filled with passion that we know we can't have, but also know we can't seem to shake. I feel Kurt's fingers thread into my hair, feel his tongue graze my teeth. I know I need to stop, but I can't bring myself to do it.

Little did I know that I wouldn't have to do it myself.

"Blaine!" A hand, one that definitely isn't Kurt's, grasps my shoulder and throws me back. "_What _do you _think _you're _doing_?" It's Wes, and he spits ever word at me with vigor. Kurt is gasping and breathing heavily, but he fights to pull me back, to make Wes stop as he pulls me out into the chilly air. "I knew it, I knew there was something going on! What the hell are you trying to pull, Blaine?" Wes asks in exasperation. I sputter and try to think of a cover story, but my options are bleak and limited. Wes groans. "Look, I won't tell anyone about this."

I stop thinking of an excuse and stare at him. "Wh- what?"

"I'm not telling anyone about your little... _display_. But something has to be done, Blaine. Someone needs to be punished, and it's not going to be our Captain Anderson." His words are beginning to envelope me. There's something I'm not comprehending, or at least I'm trying not to come to that conclusion.

"Are you saying I-" Someone walked past, forcing me to quiet down. "Are you saying I need to throw Kurt under the bus or something?"

Wes nods. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Look, no one will take his word over yours. Just... say he tried to kiss you and you came to me. We'll tell everyone as a united front, but we can do the execution privately if that's what you would prefer." My jaw drops. My brain hasn't even processed that yet. "You don't even have to be there, I promise!"

No. I can't do that to him. I could never leave the boy who loves me to die alone. "No. I- I wanna be there. I'll do it myself."

"I get that this is hard for you, but I guarantee everything will be much better after you do this. You may be confused right now," he says, patting my shoulder, "but people like him don't deserve to be around people like us. They aren't natural." He walks away, calling over his shoulder, "I'll leave you alone to do it, okay? I'm going to get all the men together."

As soon as I can't see him anymore, I run back in the medical tent. Kurt is sobbing loudly, his face hidden in his hands. I'm thinking on my feet as I grab a roll of bandages and a knife, shoving them in my pocket before approaching Kurt. I shake him, saying as quickly and quietly as possible, "Kurt, listen to me. I'm going to take you out to the other men, okay? Everything will be okay, I promise." I kiss his forehead and pull him on his feet. Kurt stumbles, clinging to me for support. "Stay close to me and... look like you're repenting!" We run out of the tent, my hands gripping his wrists in a way that I hope is convincing but not painful.

They're all standing there, watching us walk. I throw Kurt to the ground and he whimpers, staring at the cold dirt. "We've found a fag," I say, somehow keeping my voice steady. "And you all know what that means."

Almost everyone is glaring at Kurt, and I can't help but hate them. They've lived with Kurt, they've been his friends, and he's never meant them any harm; yet here they are, staring him down and hoping he'll suffer. I need to get my plan started, I can't take their looks anymore. "I'm taking care of... _this_," I grab Kurt's hair and hold his face up for all to see. I hope for his sake his eyes are closed. "We're moving out as soon as I'm done. Start packing up." The men continue to stare at me. "_Now!_" They scamper, bustling about and taking down tents. I pick Kurt up and, with my hand at his back, I walk with him into the woods.

"We're going to go straight back, okay? If you face the direction we came from, you'll be able to find your way back to the main passage." Kurt is silent, but I know he understands. We stop after walking for at least ten minutes. I pull out the bandages and the blade, gesturing for Kurt to give me his hand. A mantra of apologies escape my lips as he clenches his jaw and I cut into his left palm. Blood spills out in a tight line, and I rub my hand against it. I let it drip on my shirt, leaving bloody stains of false evidence. Kurt is wincing and I apologize again while rubbing blood across the knife, making it look used and filthy.

"Hold your hand steady," I mutter as I unravel bandages and stop the bleeding. I wrap Kurt's hand and watch the stark-white cloth turn deep red. Kurt has tears in his eyes, but I know he'll be okay. "I want you to go see a doctor after you get out of here. Say you were doing the dishes and dropped a knife or something. I don't want that getting infected." Kurt lets out a broken sob but replies with a simple nod. I hold the back of his neck and kiss his forehead.

"Thank you," he whispers. Tears well up in my eyes, and I try my best to blink them away. "Thank you so much."

"You would do the same for me, if our roles were switched. Just sit here and face the direction I leave in. If you hear someone coming, hide in that tree over there." I point to a tree with low-lying branches. It looks easy to climb, even with Kurt's bandaged hand. "I- I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll miss me. Say things could be different, in a different life. Say you wish you could be with me."

The tears fall freely now, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. I probably just smeared Kurt's blood on my face, but it doesn't matter. This staged execution will look all the more convincing because of it. "I love you."

Kurt laughs, but it sounds more like the cry of a wounded animal. "I wouldn't mind if you said that, either."

I fall to my knees in front of him. I hold his good hand and kiss the knuckles. "I mean it. I love you. And... I'm sorry."

"Sorry that we can't be together, or sorry that we were ever together in the first place?" Kurt's voice is hardened, like that of a man who has faced many trials. Well, I suppose he has.

"The first one. Never, never _ever _the second." I pressed my lips to his in a passionate, yet chaste kiss. "I wouldn't trade what we had, those little moments, for anything in the world."

Kurt smiles sadly. "You better go. They'll begin wondering why it's taking you so long to kill me."

"Right." I stand, but not before giving him one last, long kiss. Then I run, straight on for what felt like ages. Wes is waiting for me with David outside the woods. David grimaces at the bloody knife, but I swear I can see the proud smirk in Wes's eyes. He'll always be a government supporter, no matter how cruel and sadistic the government may be.

"Good job, Captain." He claps me on the back and hands me a canteen of water. I unscrew it and dump the contents on my hands, eager to wash away Kurt's dried blood. "Was there a struggle?"

I let out a barking laugh. The charade must be kept up for appearances. "It wouldn't be worth it if there wasn't one."

That seems to satisfy Wesley. "Good. Now let's move out."


	9. Losing Hope

Puck watches as the whole thing happens. He hates Blaine, he wants to kill the sick bastard: even more so when he sees the Captain return with bloody clothes and a thick knife that he drops on the ground and quickly walks away from, like being near the thing will contaminate him. Puck knows the blood belongs to Kurt, the boy he was- and still is, until he knows for sure that Kurt is dead- sworn to protect.

In his meager dragon form, Puck scurries off unnoticed in the direction Blaine just returned from. He has to find Kurt and then, if Kurt is gone for good, he has to kill Captain Anderson.

* * *

><p>I stumble out of the woods and land on all fours, making my hand throb worse than before. I curl up into a ball and refuse to move for a few minutes; Blaine told me I needed to find a hospital, but it just doesn't seem worth it. I'm supposed to be <em>dead<em>. What do I tell everyone when I get home? It sounds better to die than face the world as someone who isn't supposed to be alive, as someone who risks getting the man they love – the man who saved me, and not just like this – in trouble just by existing.

I sigh heavily and look at my hand. I could take the bandages off now and just bleed out, then I could die peacefully in the woods with no one to stop me. I'll need a bigger cut though, something that won't clot. I'll look for something sharp afterward. I reach for the cloth and start to tug at it, but there's something tugging on my arm, forcing me to stop.

"Kurt!" Puck morphs back into his human form and becomes strong enough to overpower me. "Kurt, stop it! Don't give me that look, boy!" he shouts as I turn my watery blue eyes towards him. "I'm not gonna let you go out like this."

"How did you find me?" I ask, though the answer doesn't truly matter. He found me, and now my plans are ruined.

"I followed my nose; I could smell your blood from a mile away." I nod at his reply and curl back into a ball, muttering, "So what do we do now?"

"The troops all left about an hour ago. We should head back to their campsite and see if there's anything left that we can salvage, then we'll go from there." Puck scoops me up and sets me on my feet. "Come on, let's get a move on."

I give him an emotionless grunt and walk towards the old campsite. It takes ages to get there, but once we reach the field I feel an uncomfortable knot form in my stomach and I wish it had taken longer. There's that stupid knife, left carelessly on the ground. Knowing there's no sense in heading out unprotected (I am, after all, a fugitive of the law now), I spit on the blade and rub it on the grass to remove the dried blood before slipping it into the waistband of my pants. The blade is cold against my thigh and I'm afraid it will cut me, but for right now I don't have a better place to put the damn thing.

"Kurt," Puck mumbles, motioning for me to stand next to him. I walk over and see tracks from where a cart has been pulled away. "Looks like they took Quinn."

That hurts more than the wound on my palm. Blaine knew I would be okay, so why would he take my horse and force me to walk to safety? Maybe he was hoping I would get lost and just give up. Puck shakes his head as he examines the tracks, but he turns around when I gasp and being sobbing.

"Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong?" He throws himself to my side and looks around frantically. I just shake against him and point to the broken bird cage I can see in the distance. "Oh no." Puck lets me go and runs to it, but I already know that Pavarotti won't be inside. Still, it makes me cry even harder when Puck comes back empty-handed.

"We have to go," he says soothingly. Puck grabs my hand and lets out a small gasp as sticky red blood coats his fingers. I had been clenching my fists so hard that the wound had reopened. "We have to get you to a hospital, you need stitches."

"What's the use, Puck? If the people at the hospital knew what I was-"

"And what's that? A soldier? Because I think they would be pretty eager to help a soldier in need."

"You know what I mean," I whisper angrily. "I'm gay."

"And I'm a freakin' lizard!" Puck shouts, his voice booming compared to mine. "So we all have our little quirks! That doesn't mean you didn't serve your country, and it doesn't mean you don't deserve help just as much as the next guy." I open my mouth to argue, but Puck suddenly throws me over his shoulder and starts walking aimlessly. "There's gotta be a hospital around here somewhere."

"Puck! Put me down!" I struggle against him, kicking wildly and swinging my good hand. He just keeps walking as I yell. "Puck, I swear if you don't-" I gasp and my eyes grow wide. "P- Puck."

"Not falling for it, kiddo. No matter what you do, this train won't stop moving."

"Puck! Please, just turn around!"

He groans and looks over his shoulder. The sight behind him makes him stop dead in his tracks.

We can see people moving on a hill not far from here. Their bright red and white flag wavers in the wind, and we know what this means: Karofsky and his troops survived. They're marching forward, and they know no one will think to stop them.

The worst part of it all? They have back-up.


	10. Warning

I lead my troops forward down the street as people cheer around us. We've alerted the President that we have eliminated Karofsky's troops, and they threw our troops a parade. _A freakin' parade. _Kurt is cold and alone somewhere or, God forbid, dead, and I'm at a parade. I'm a terrible person.

We walk in a straight line, David at my right and Wes at my left as I lead my men forward. Something is distracting David in the crowd. I shouldn't look, but I peek my head out in front of my friend nonetheless. A strong, tan man with a mohawk is pushing people out of his way in an effort to stay parallel to me. He keeps waving his arms frantically, and I somehow know he's trying to get my attention. We make eye contact, and his eyebrows raise in surprise as his waving increases in pace. "Blaine!" he begins calling out. "Blaine, please!"

"I'll alert security," Wes mutters, exasperated. He motions for a man in a blue suit to approach him, and he quickly whispers in the man's ear before he nods and runs over to the guy with the mohawk. "Blaine," he is still calling. "Kurt needs-!"

The sound of his voice is cut off by Wes, who inhales sharply. "What did that man just say?"

I shake my head and continue walking, but now I'm shaking and can't help but feel like I need to talk to this man at all costs. I glance over at David, who's staring at me with his dark eyes. Something tells me David was my real friend all along. "Go," is all he needs to say. I take off running, and I can hear the people around me muttering to one another. The tan guy gives me a cocky grin and starts running away, but I have the good sense to follow him.

His legs are much longer than mine. It takes all of my effort to keep up with him, but I somehow manage. Finally, he stops beside a small blue station wagon, barely panting. "He's in there," he says, opening the passenger's side door for me. I glance inside and see a small man sitting in the driver's seat, his face masked by the oversized hood that is shrouding his features.

"Blaine." My eyes grow wide. I know this voice.

"Kurt! Kurt, I knew you would-"

"Shh! I'm not supposed to be alive, remember?" I sputter, but I nod and do as he does. We are both staring out the front window, our lips barely moving as we speak to one another.

"What do you need? Money? I can get you anything, if you just wait here until the parade is done."

"I'm here to tell you something, Blaine."

"Tell me what?" I furrow my brow slightly, but it would be unnoticeable to anyone passing by our car. "And where did you get a car, anyway?"

"Puck stole it for me," he said, gesturing with one finger over to the large man I had been following. "But that's not the point. Karofsky and his troops, they survived. I don't know when they're going to get here, but it won't be long now."

"Wait, hold on a minute-"

"There's no time, Blaine! You need to get together as many troops as you can and defend the city!"

I have a hard time believing what Kurt is telling me. My mind goes into autopilot and I call Wes, telling him everything I know without saying who gave me the information. Wes is skeptical but takes my words into account and assures me that we will be ready when the time comes. By the time I get off the phone, Kurt has removed his hood and I can see a small tear trickling across the expansive of his pale cheek.

"Hey, come here," I say soothingly, turning towards him and pulling him into a tight embrace, not caring who can see. "Everything will be fine."

"No, it won't!" Kurt suddenly sobs into my shoulder. "This is the last time I'm ever gonna see you, isn't it?" I frown, but I can't answer that question because I truly don't know. He can see it in my eyes, and I can hear his sadness in his cracked words. "Just be safe. Please."

I lift his face to mine and nod so he can see me. Kurt gives me a small smile and I duck down low so that no one outside the car can see me kiss his cheek. "Stay here. Whatever you do, don't get out of this car. Drive off if you really have to, but for the love of God don't get out."

"I- I..." Kurt purses his lips and gives me a solemn nod. "I promise."

"Good." I kiss his forehead, my fingers lingering against his cheek as I open the car door and climb out without another word. Puck is still standing there like nothing was wrong. I keep my head low and start walking, but he reaches out to me.

"You really love him, don't you?" The question is asked innocently, and I can tell Puck isn't being judgmental. He's trying to understand. I wipe off a tear that suddenly forms in the corner of my eye and walk faster, wishing everyone could just give understanding a try. But right now, I have bigger problems.


	11. Feeling Dead

If you looked upon this street a few hours ago, you would've seen citizens smiling and heroes being cheered by the public for their courage and honor. But now?

It's a bloodbath.

Our troops were ill equipped for the speed at which the Canadian army encroached on our capitol city. They made due with what they had, and I can report that all citizens were cleared before the actual fighting began. But these people, these strangers in a crowd, they honestly mean nothing to me. They're just people. I honestly never thought about this seemingly minor detail before I joined the army: people die every day whether you knew them or not. Bad people, good people... it doesn't really matter, does it? To their families back home, the enemies we face are brothers, husbands, fathers, friends. It's not black and white, death. It just is what it is, asking nothing more or less from all of us than our lives in the end. Sometimes the end is quick, sometimes the end is a long time coming, but it always comes. I almost died. The soldiers around me as I cower in this stolen car are nearing death with every round that is fired from enemy guns. The people of my country may die too, if all doesn't go as we hope.

Blaine is out there somewhere, facing death like you face an icy wind when you walk in the snow: you just narrow your eyes and take it. Maybe that's why I don't care if these people die. The Canadian soldiers wouldn't care if I died, my fellow soldiers _wanted _me dead, and these civilians are happy to use people like me as a human shield for their own safety. But Blaine saved me. Blaine would care if I died.

I look up from the floor of the backseat where I am hiding. Puck's eyes are flickering back and forth as he watched the carnage, safely camouflaged in his compacted form. He's trying to protect me; he would care if I died too. That's not enough, though. Puck was sent to protect me, it's his duty to bring me home alive. Blaine protected me by choice. Now, as the cool steel of my concealed blade weighs heavy at my side, I know I have to choose to protect him too.

"Kurt? Kurt! Get back here!" I can hear Puck calling after me, but it won't make me turn around. I dive between and under cars abandoned before the attack, listening to the sound of gunfire mix with the violent beating of my heart. The persistent ache in my side from my old wound suddenly numbs as the adrenaline kicks in. Puck easily catches me by scurrying under cars without pause. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's not worth living in a world that he's not in." Puck jumps in front of me, but he's easy to push aside.

"He left you for dead!"

"I've been dead!" We were moving fast, but this makes Puck pause, still and silent. "If you asked me before all this when the last time I was happy could've been, I wouldn't be able to answer you. But now..." The bloody battle rages on maybe a few hundred yards from us, but in our own little world there's nothing but a battle of wills. "He gave me something. He gave me my life. I _owe _him my life. And I refuse to feel dead before I'm actually dead ever again."

Puck looks me square in the eyes. I can feel him begging me to change my mind, but that's not going to happen. "Fine," he finally says, his voice quiet. "But you're not going to do much good with that tiny little knife. Let's find you a real weapon."

We watch the battle together, now more up close and personal than I had ever wished I would be to such carnage. Puck found a soldier lying lifeless on the outskirts of the street, and the gun in his belt had a full round. He dragged it back to me, and now I'm armed. Now it's just a matter of finding Blaine.

He wouldn't be stupid enough to be on horseback, visible over the barricade his troops hastily established, and for that I'm simultaneously grateful and annoyed. Captain Anderson is suddenly very hard to find. It's not until the Canadians have inched their way closer and pushed the Americans back more than a few comfortable feet that I spot him. He yells commands to his troops before taking a select group of comrads – Wes, David, and a few of my old friends among them – and running toward the White House, creating a protective sphere around our head of government.

If that's where Blaine is, that's where I need to be too.


	12. Understanding

"Is that...? No, it can't be. He's... he's dead."

I pull my eyes from the battle before me, drawn to Wes's pointed finger. A similar thought crosses my mind: it can't be him. I told him to be safe, to stay in the car, to drive away if that's what it came to in the end. To leave me.

"Dammit! Goddammit, Blaine!" Wes shoves me, hard. "What the hell? You said you got rid of him!"

I don't look him in the eyes. "I lied." The soldiers behind me are chattering to one another, and I snap my head around to face them. "Shut your mouths and focus. This isn't the mess hall with your buddies, this is war." They look at me with wide eyes. Sam's gaze bores into me and I brace myself to argue with him, but he straightens his posture, salutes me, and watches the enemy line. I never expected that from him, to be perfectly honest. I wouldn't expect it from any of them, after the way they treated Kurt. Yet they all follow Sam's example, each standing at attention and readying their rifles like we taught them. I feel proud.

"This is ridiculous!" Wes cocks his gun in Kurt's direction, aiming the barrel at the speck of a man who grows larger as he quickly approaches us. "I never should've trusted you, Anderson." Wes pulls the rifle to his shoulder and takes aim.

I can see David faltering. "Wes, what are you doing?"

"Solving the problem I should've handled in the first place." He squints, trying to make the shot as clean as possible. What can I do? I'll tackle him. I'll break his arms. I'll tear him limb from limb if it means protecting the man I fought to save in the first place.

I don't have to do a thing. David raises his pistol to Wes's temple and I hear the safety click menacingly. "Don't do it, Wes. You're better than this." You can see the fear in Wes's eyes, taste the bitter tension in the air. Wes tries to turn and face his lifelong friend, but the barrel is buried too deep against his temple. David is shaking, Wes knows he won't do anything, and when I hear the safety of Wes's rifle click as well – I snap.

Wes falls in a heap on the ground. I didn't even know what had happened until I open my eyes again and see the blunt end of my gun raised above the spot where Wes had been standing.  
>I can already see the dark lump forming at the crown of his hair.<p>

"Captain?"

I turn, lowering my gun. Kurt has reached us; God knows how he managed to slip past our barricade, but he's here, face to face with the people who shunned him.

"Permission to stand down, sir?" It's Artie who asks. I nod reluctantly, fearing what he will do. Artie walks slowly at first, then collides into Kurt all at once, holding him in a tight embrace. "I'm glad you're okay, dude." A tear forms in Kurt's eye, and he looks at me expectantly. Artie withdraws and steps back into line, waiting for orders.

"Is there a reason you left that car, Private?"

Kurt nods. "I was thinking. This... this is kinda silly, don't you think?"

Those aren't the convincing words I was expecting. "What's silly?"

"That we're fighting people just like us. I mean, I read in the paper just a year ago about a United States military invasion of Vancouver. We were the enemy in their eyes. And maybe they wouldn't retaliate if we stopped seeing one another as the enemy." He looked at his friends each individually. "Maybe a little kindness and understanding would be more effective, in these situations."

David, who is still shaken up over his actions against Wes, finally speaks up. "That's all pretty nice, Hummel, but understanding and kindness aren't really the stuff of wars. What are you trying to say?"

Kurt looks at me, knowing I'll understand. "I just think these people deserve the chance to go home, that's all. It doesn't have to be the end unless we make it the end."

Everyone in our party is silent. Some are still in shock that Kurt is even alive, while others seem to take his words to heart. You can see the gears in their heads turning, finally seeing that those men across the way are just like them, with families and friends that they want to see one last time before they go. You can even see a few of them feel the same way about Kurt.

Sam drops his gun. "So what are we supposed to do now, huh? Listen to a moving speech about the importance of life, then mow down a couple mounties before we kick the bucket?"

"No. We negotiate like civilized people with an understanding of common decency."

David rolls his eyes. "We aren't exactly in a position to negotiate."

"No, I guess not." Kurt's eyes turn upward, gazing at the mansion behind us. "But I know a guy who might be able to help us."

* * *

><p>Kurt and the soldiers parted ways with me and David. It seemed only appropriate that the President meet with a select leader or two, not a group of soldiers with fresh battle wounds and their world-weary fugitive companion. We make our case, plain as can be: we wish for the end of needless war, an end to the carnage that accompanies greed and power. I make an example out of my father and his troops and the civilians that were charred by Karofsky's troops, but I also remind him that we did the same. We've been doing them same to one another for too long.<p>

David and I talk for what feels like a lifetime, begging our case to the most powerful man in the country. I'm grasping at straws, trying to find some way to make him listen, make him see, when finally he raises hi hand to silence us.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to make a phone call."


	13. Saying Good-Bye

You'd honestly think there would be more guards in the White House. We stand silently in the grand entrance, uninterrupted by passersby, shielded from the war but not from one another. Sam, Finn, and Artie all seem to appreciate my return, and that serves as a strong comfort to me. Some of the others, however seem to disagree.

"Just can't seem to die, you cockroach."

"I didn't realize Captain Anderson was a _fag_ too. Might as well hang you two from the same rope."

"Hummel, if you so much as look at me, I swear I'll-"

"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" Sam lashes out, shoving the soldier nearest him. "Go be useful and man your posts, why don't you?"

"Woah, Evans, didn't realize you were a-"

He never got to finish that sentence. Sam punches the guy right in the face, leaving him sprawling on the floor with a bloody nose. He looks almost ready to get back up and fight, but Sam grabs him by the collar. "Man. Your. Post." He throws him towards the door and glares at the others, daring them to challenge him. They each give me dirty looks before marching to the door and returning to their original spots on the White House lawn. As the door slowly closes, I see a flash of red slip through the narrow crack and hide behind a shrubbery in the foyer.

"Thank you," I say shyly. I've never had so many people defend me like this. Maybe more people do care about me. I know I've found a damn good reason to care about them.

"Don't mention it." Sam claps me on the back and we all stand in comfortable silence, waiting for any news – good or bad – from our Captain.

He returns to us an hour later. By the time I see Blaine again, the adrenaline has warn away and my body is again screaming for an ailment to my wounds. I never did get that cut checked. I'm willing myself to stand as straight as tall as my comrades beside me.

"Well, Captain?"

Blaine looked stoic, but he was only able to keep up the facade momentarily. "The President has contacted the offices of the Canadian Prime Minister. He has requested both a ceasefire and a _permanent _boarder settlement."

A poignant silence hangs in the air. "And?" Artie asks.

"And boys," Blaine says with a smile, "we're done for the day."

* * *

><p>"Kurt?" Puck has grown to full size, and he calls to me from the doorway. I give him a sad smile and approach him. He sighs. "I think I already know the answer to this question, but... are you coming back with me?"<p>

I feel ready to burst with emotion. These past few months have been a whirlwind of change and emotions. Puck has helped me through all of that, but I think we both know this is the end of the line.

"You know I can't, Puck. I don't want to cause any more trouble for my parents than I already have."

"And, you know, there's always Blaine to consider."

I glance over my shoulder at the man I love, who seems to be in a deep discussion with a government official. He looks pained. I can't think of that right now. "Yes, there's always Blaine. Puck, can you promise me something?"

"Anything," he swears.

"I want you to go home and tell my dad what happened. I don't care what lies you come up with about how we know each other or how this all ends. I just care that you make it clear to him that I'm not sorry or what I did. I'm not sorry that I gave him the chance to continue his life, and I'm not sorry that I've finally started mine."

Puck chuckles, but I can hear his voice cracking. "Well, isn't that defiant of you."

I'm laughing now too, and soon we're laughing and crying and embracing and I can't help but feel as though I'm about to lose my best friend and then he pulls away and says, "Will that be everything?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head and quickly drying my eyes. "Don't forget to tell him that I'm happy."

Puck smiles, the last smile of his that I will ever see. "No problem, Hummel." He opens the door to leave, but I have to stop him before he can walk out of my life forever without hearing this.

"Noah?" It catches his undivided attention. "Thank you."

He gives me a nod, a nod that means so much more than words could express. I think in a way he was thanking me too. He opens the door and suddenly, through the mist of his transformation, he is gone.

"Kurt?" It almost sounds like Puck, I almost wish that it was, but instead it's Sam calling me back over to the group. "Kurt, I think they wanna talk to you." He points toward the Oval Office doors, and with a heavy sigh and no fear left in my heart, I walk to my end.


	14. Happy

The battle ended as abruptly as it had begun, with Karofsky's troops forced by direct government orders to end all attacks and retreat to the nearest Canadian border. They were escorted by neutral international troops. The ceasefire and settlements were finalized a few months later, but I'm not there to see that happen.

I resigned my post as army captain the day of that final battle. I couldn't stay any longer. I couldn't ask for a pardon after the information my dear friend Wesley inevitably shared with our Commander in Chief. I certainly couldn't ask for the same for Kurt, who would come under even harsher punishment for being, as Wes put it, the "instigator of this affair." As far as the government was concerned, our good deeds meant very little under these conditions.

Therefore, we had two choices. One: the President, lenient after the high of his small political victory, would kill us both, telling no one of our excursions. We would be listed with those who died in battle, heroically memorialized as mere statistics in the books and movies that would surely be made of this tale. Two: we would be exiled to the far reaches of the continent. Friends, family members, fellow troops, all would know us as traitors to the values that this fine country so thoroughly embodies.

I remember looking at Kurt when we were given this ultimatum. It was bittersweet, but we knew the decision we had to make. Our families would be disgraced, our friends would cringe at the memories of our company, but we would be together.

Now, as I live in exile, I can finally say that I am contented.

"Blaine?" Kurt enters the den of our small cottage. I'm not at the liberty to say exactly where we are now, but I will say that our current location is cold. Very, very cold.

"Yeah?" I watch as Kurt puts another log in the fireplace and pokes the kindling beneath it.

"Are you happy?"

He asks me that every day. Every day for the past year I have awakened, started a fire in my den, and waited for Kurt to enter and ask me that exact question. My answer is, and always will be, the same. I get up and hold him tightly, planting a kiss against his wind-chapped lips. "With you here? Of course."

Yes, I can always wish that things were different. I wish our story had moved my fellow citizens to embrace a new path of understanding. I wish that my father's name could be remembered with dignity. I wish that Kurt could see his father again, even if it was only one last time.

My life, however, is not a fairytale. Not everyone gets happy endings. Then again, not all endings are tragic. Some people just get endings. And if my ending is here with the man I love, being asked every morning until the day I die if I'm happy, then that will always be good enough for me.

Why? Because I'm one of the guys who got to go home. I get to go home every time I wake up beside him, every time I kiss him, every time we touch, and every time I end the day with him.

Kurt is my home.


End file.
